The Legend of Betsy Calhoun
by vanhunks
Summary: An irreverent tale involving Janeway, Chakotay and her beloved compression phaser rifle called Betsy Calhoun. Chakotay used to date Kathryn. Now he's with someone else. This means war and Kathryn is on the warpath. Nothing will keep her from getting her man. As the other Bette [Davis] said, "Fasten your seatbelts, you're in for a bumpy ride!"


THE LEGEND OF BETSY CALHOUN

Pairing: J/C

Rating: PG-13

SUMMARY:

An irreverent tale involving Janeway, Chakotay and her beloved phaser rifle called Betsy Calhoun. Chakotay used to date Kathryn. Now he's with someone else. Kathryn is on the warpath. Nothing will keep her from getting her man.

PART ONE: On the good ship Voyager.

**Home - On route to Earth from Deep Space Nine. **

The party was in full swing with an overflow of replicated wine. Now that Voyager was back in the Alpha Quadrant, they could eat, drink and be merry as much as they wanted to. Kathryn Janeway's crew looked too deep in their cups. They grabbed anyone within spitting distance and kissed them with amorous exuberance and smelly breaths. If it were Christmas time, they wouldn't need mistletoe to initiate kisses.

Why, she just saw shy Angelo Tassoni walk up to a Delaney twin, asking her for a dance! And Tuvok! Tuvok seemed wrapped around Gerron, or was Gerron wrapped around Tuvok? Kathryn felt the bile rise in her throat. Just the thought of Tuvok wrapping himself around anything when T'Pel wasn't looking made her want to throw up. Was she the only one sober this day? She and Torres?

Did Susan Nicoletti not know James Graham D'Abo was a cad of the first water? Or the second water? Janeway had a good mind to warn the tipsy tart that playing with fire could get her...knocked up.

No. Better not. Let the girl discover for herself that James Graham D'Abo was a dog.

Then Kathryn Janeway cast an eye to where Commander Chakotay was dancing with Seven of Nine. The amorous crew forgotten, a sudden rage filled her. No, no, do not kiss the Ice Queen, Chakotay! You promised! And no, amend the Ice Queen bit. Lots of ice, but she's no queen!

But despite her fervent wish, she saw Chakotay kiss the Borg.

"Cap'n," he told her, "I mwah going to marry thish fine young shwoman."

Who spiked the punch? Chakotay, punch drunk?

"You will be shorry," she told him.

"Oh, no, Cap'n," he retorted. "I will not be shorry. You won't giveshit to me anymore, and Sheven'sh decided she will leat my hoins too."

That's what he'd said fifteen minutes ago.

She was going to kill Chakotay. She was going to murder him in his bed. Yes, in his bed. Whatever happened to all those nights and days when she gave it to him? She had leated his hoins too! She'd writhed like an unbridled young colt under his body. Everywhere - in the turbolifts, in the holodeck, in her quarters, in his quarters, Jefferies tubes, bulkheads, counters, floors, tubs, cargo bay, mess hall when no one was looking, showers while the water was running, even managed the bridge in the dead of night when no one was looking! Did they ever go down on their beds?

She'd better get him out of that Tart's clutches! She of the enormous rocky promontories that looked like they jutted right into Chakotay's face.

Kathryn sauntered up to them and none too gently pushed The Tart out of the way. Hands on her hips, she rose on tiptoe and breathed huskily in Chakotay's neck, "Particle fountain..."

Chakotay choked, sputtered, and when he managed to find his voice, retorted with, "Attitude control...I'm coming in..." Seven of Nine was forgotten for the moment.

"Good. Just so you know who's in control," she murmured. Janeway turned to the rest of her crew. "Now I shall leave you all to enjoy the celebrations. Behave yourselves!"

Seven gazed at her man and said, "I shall have you, Commander Chakotay. Be my love."

Kathryn gave Chakotay another particle fountain look and had him right in her bosom, if not her leated hoins.

James Graham D'Abo pulled Susan to him, pressed his horny self into her and promised her the Alpha Quadrant.

Noah Lessing studied the first officer and his paramour. He didn't think they belonged together seeing as he knew of the many exploits the Commander and Captain got into all over the ship. Who could but deny such an attraction? He was himself a man on the make. All he needed to find was a woman as tall as he. There was no such person on Voyager, male or female, who matched his height. That would be his friend on Earth. They would be home soon. The first thing he was going to do was engage in sex with his best friend. Yes, sir, that's what he was going to do.

"Did she say yes?"

"Huh?"

Noah un-glazed his eyes and saw Chell standing next to him.

"You know, the person as tall as you whom you're going to uh...bonk?"

"I was talking?"

"Yes, sir, that you did, sir!"

Later that night Janeway was in her quarters getting ready for bed. She was mad as hell. Chakotay didn't come. He promised himself to the fool Borg-Tart. What the hell for? Oh, yes, _he_ said _she_ said _he_ wouldn't last in a marriage if he paid her to hunt him in the Badlands again. So he settled for that Tart.

"Out with it, Chakotay. You're in love with her bazooms."

"So what? You have little itty-bitty butterballs. Couldn't get me lips round them if I tried."

Yep, that's what he hit her with. She swore by the particle fountains and supernovas that he favoured her mightily with those loins. Everywhere, including her little tits. Janeway cupped her hands round the fullness of her butterballs. They more than fit nicely, she decided.

So she dressed in her sexiest nightie, diaphanous white, tiny shoulder straps, her breasts pert against the soft fabric. That was all she wore. She paced her bedroom, wondering if the particle fountain hint worked. Deep sigh. Elaborate shrug. Go to bed, Janeway.

Her door chimed. She waited. It chimed again. She knew what would happen. She could even hear him entering her codes.

The doors swung open. Footsteps came closer. It stopped at the entrance to her bedroom.

Chakotay.

A gleaming silhouette. Black eyes smouldering. Feet planted firmly astride. Arms by his side, the fingers thrumming an invisible drum.

Ready to strike. He was also magnificently naked.

"Oh, Chakotay!" Kathryn purred when she couldn't pull her eyes from his jutting organ, bobbing about like a conductor wielding his baton. And, it seemed to be on a heading for her throbbing loins.

"Kathryn, honey, I've got to have you now! Me, you, one last time for old time's sake!"

"Oh, yes! Yes! Yes!"

"Anymore yesses and I'm coming! Attitude control perfect!"

And they did it for old times' sake - on her couch, on the floor, against the bulkheads, in the bath tub, in the shower, on her office counter. He drilled his drill into her, grown large from just looking at her Delta Queen.

"Kath-hon," he bellowed, "let me eat your itti-bitty butterballs. My mouth craves cupcakes with nipples."

"Chakotay," she purred, "Take my itty-bitty butterballs and take my Delta Queen. Remember me! You're an animal! You will remember this night even if I have to kill you!"

"What!? You will lose the best drill bit this side of the Delta Quadrant!"

He humped above her in animal-like grunts.

"Stop!" she demanded, pushing his body up, but not out of her.

"Kath-hon, I'm coming!" he wailed, trying to resume the animal-humping.

"You have got to make me a promise."

"Yes, yes, I promise you anything!"

"Anything?"

"Anything, goddammit!"

"Don't marry the Tart!"

Chakotay's eyes un-glazed, his drill bit halfway in exit mode.

"You want me to leave my Borg Tart?"

"You heard me."

"Okay."

Enter drill bit!

And Kathryn let Chakotay ride her until they were both too exhausted to ride and in the early hours of the morning fell asleep at last.

When Kathryn woke up, Chakotay was gone, Voyager was home and Kath-hon was no more.

END PART ONE

PART TWO: Meet Betsy Calhoun.

**Five months later, inside the Delta Flyer III, craft designed for Janeway.**

Janeway glared at her aide like her eyes were spewing fire. Adessi Uhura thought if she farted, there'd be fire in the hole.

"This means war, Uhura."

Adessi had long ago - that being five months ago - decided she was not afraid of the belligerent Admiral. She, Adessi, had spent four of those five months tracking the whereabouts of one Captain Chakotay. When they returned home he had promised his paramour the Borg Tart, so named by the good Admiral herself, that he would remain in hailing range which really came to nought. They had first gone off-world to some resort. Then they lived for a while on Dorvan. After which Chakotay and his Borg Tart vanished from the Federation radar.

But she, Adessi, finally tracked them. Now their mission was to go and reclaim Chakotay from the clutches of a botoxed Borg. Adessi could swear those giant bazooms were not inspired by a Higher Hand.

Those first months after the Warrior and his Borg went off-world, Admiral Janeway had gone to Utopia Planitia, twisted Tom Paris and Leah Brahms' arms to design a new Delta Flyer. Adessi had heard how Tom had balked about prototypes and the like and couldn't the good admiral make do with toggle switches? Now the Delta Flyer III was ready for interstellar travel, with all the modern conveniences for two couples to copulate at leisure without being heard.

Was that even possible?

But here they were, ready to leave Earth, and Janeway was in a mean mood. It swung from mean to not so mean to fury to almost mean to incensed to mean, so further and so forth. All because Commander Chakotay had left the admiral high and dry on the morning of their return home from hell. Well, there was another reason, but Adessi was under pain of death not to divulge the awfulness of bad moods.

"I daresay, Admiral," Adessi replied at last, "we're at war."

The admiral leaned in and craned her neck. She was supposed to eyeball Adessi, but Adessi being so tall... Well, she tried to eyeball her aide and spewed, "I retrieve my Chakotay and you go and get your - your..." Janeway frowned and Uhura felt peeved the admiral couldn't remember.

"Noah, who promised great sex with someone almost as tall as he."

"Yes, that one. Say, you are from the same tribe, right?"

"Amen, Admiral. And me a descendant of the legendary Nyota Uhura."

"And I'm a descendent of Shannon O'Donnell. What's your point?"

"I'm tall and you're not."

"Remind me why I hired you?"

"I'm the only one who can take your - "

"Let's check everything."

With that, Adessi Uhura knew to shut up and work.

Admiral Janeway was dressed like a warrior - long boots, close-fitting pants, jacket caught at the waist by a thick belt with a buckle shaped like the USS Voyager. The collar of the jacket rose high on her neck. If only Janeway could get the buckle... Adessi sighed. This was an important mission and failure was not an option.

"The cabins are fully fitted, Admiral. A bunk in each, wide enough to sleep two. Replicator in each cabin. Biobed on deck 1, whips and straps fitted. If you want blades, chains and baseball bats as well, I could arrange that. By the way, I have a message from your mother which says to please bring back that hound Chakotay so she can scalp him."

"My mother said that, huh."

"Aye, ma'am, she said that."

Janeway opened a storage locker and retrieved a magnificent compression phaser rifle. She caressed its sleek lines before trying to stare into Adessi's eyes again, the Maasai warrior was so tall.

"Now this... this, Uhura," she started, " is my baby. Cultured her right there on Voyager in year 1 of our travels and evolved into my new and improved double-barrelled snot-gun."

"You call a compression phaser rifle your baby?"

"Ah, yes, and do not mock me or I will phaser you, Uhura. Make no mistake."

Uhura was not about to make a mistake. She too, was dressed like the admiral in twenty fourth century battle dress, though her lines were a lot sleeker because she was about a full thirty centimetres taller than the admiral and almost as tall as her best friend Noah, who stood two metres in his smelly socks.

"And you gave your baby a name?"

"Don't you name things that belong to you? My teddy bear is Gracie. Now, Adessi, meet Betsy Calhoun."

"A phaser rifle with a last name. I should remember that. Betsy Calhoun, huh."

"Oh, yes. Here, touch her, smell her, kiss her. Come on, kiss her. Good. Adessi, sit down before I crick my neck and bust the seventh vertebra in my spinal column. You know how careful I should be!"

Adessi burst into a fit of laughter. She choked and sputtered and took several seconds to calm down.

"What's so funny?" Janeway asked.

"Your spinal condition! C/7. Chakotay and Seven of Nine!"

Next moment Adessi stared down the barrel of Betsy Calhoun on wide stun. She squinted, pushing the offending nozzle delicately away from her body.

"So...tell me about Betsy Calhoun. I take it you named your rifle for someone real?"

"Aye. Betsy Calhoun was the fastest gun in the West. Well, after Martha Jane Canary."

"Huh?"

"Better known as Calamity Jane...way!"

This time it was Janeway who laughed so hard she had to sit down on the bunk. Adessi waited till she had calmed down.

"The - the West?"

"Oh, you need an education in nineteenth century America, but not now. Betsy Calhoun could shoot a pimple off the face of Sévérine St. Denis, a foolish _fille publique_ who plied her wares in the saloons of Dodge City."

"_Fille_...what?"

"Prostitute. Always reminded me of Seven of Nine."

"Oh."

"Well, Uhura, what are you going to name your compression phaser rifle?"

Adessi hugged her rifle and imagined she was shooting something belonging to that _shenzi_ Noah Lessing. Preferably his _uboo_, the one that could extend 30cm when aroused.

"Mau-Mau."

"Just that?"

"Aye, Admiral."

Janeway gave an elaborate sigh, stashed Betsy Calhoun and Mau-Mau in the storage locker and took her seat at the conn. Adessi sat down next to her. Within minutes they were airborne, en route to Stockholm where Captain Chakotay and his Borg Tart were to be joined in holy matrimony.

"Not if I can help it," Janeway muttered under her breath as she reclined in her seat and adjusted her belt.

END PART TWO

PART THREE: Speak now, or forever hold your peace.

**When in Sweden...**

The Delta Flyer touched down on the outskirts of the suburb of Södertälje. By the time Kathryn Janeway and Adessi Uhura alighted from the shuttle, they were fully armed with Betsy Calhoun and Mau-Mau forming the vanguard of their offensive. They were heading for the Hansen family estate.

"I hope we're not too late," Adessi said as they walked briskly towards the lawns where the ceremony was taking place.

"Betsy, what do you think?" Kathryn asked her rifle. "Betsy says we are never too late, Uhura! Let's bustle!"

So they bustled. In the distance they saw a group of people, some in plain clothes, others in Starfleet uniform. Kathryn Janeway pursed her lips. Adessi Uhura pursed her lips. Both of them clutched their rifles closer to their bodies.

"This means war," Adessi huffed.

"Do not steal my lines, Uhura."

"I stole nothing, and you know that."

"One day I'm going to fire you for your cockiness."

"Then who will understand your drive and take your crap, Admiral?"

"Hmmph!"

They reached the wedding party. The guests formed a semi circle around the couple. Kathryn prodded a path through the party of guests. When they saw Betsy they jumped aside. She stepped through; Uhura followed her.

And there they stood - Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Nought and Some, the tight cat suit doing nothing to hide the promontories that jutted from her bosom, and Captain Chakotay, dressed in uniform, looking in her eyes and holding hands. With them stood the presiding minister, a Vulcan of no name.

The three of them looked up at the commotion caused by the appearance of the Admiral, Uhura, Betsy and Mau-Mau.

Chakotay's eyes popped like Bugs Bunny in an old cartoon, and when they settled, they began to sparkle.

"Kath-hon!" he cried, dropping Seven's hand instantly, and reaching for his one and only true love whom he called Kath-hon, because it became too long to say 'Kathryn, honey'.

But Kath-hon would have none of the touchy-feely just yet.

She poked her rifle against him and pushed him away from Seven of Nine. Uhura pointed her phaser at the guests. "What are you looking at?" she seemed to ask. Then she turned and pointed her rifle at Noah Lessing's ram-rod _uboo_.

Kathryn glared at Chakotay, pursed her lips again, the fart-fire ready to explode in the circle of love. She removed her belt, the one with the Voyager buckle. Now her jacket took on the full shape of her belly which was neatly rounded like a half moon.

"You! You!" she spat, prodding Chakotay's chest with Betsy, her eyes shooting fart-fire. "You and your just-one-more-time-for-old-times'-sake! Look what you've done!" Kathryn patted her rounded belly with her free hand.

Everyone could see what Captain Chakotay had done to Admiral Janeway. Her belly seemed to swell further just from the release of her Voyager belt.

"Kath-hon! My baby!"

"Chakotay," they heard Seven of Nine behind them, "is mine!"

Uhura turned on Seven and fired one shot. Seven's giant promontories fell off instantly and lay on the ground before they bounced up and were carried away on the winds of change. Uhura gave a triumphant yell.

"I knew it! I knew it! God didn't put them bazooms there in the first place!"

Seven ran off in search of her precious fake-boobies, looking ridiculously flat-chested.

Kathryn turned to the Vulcan. "Seems," she purred, "I have already rent this so-called union asunder." She pointed to Chakotay who looked stupefied and overjoyed at the same time. "My man here has just been a little confused on the issue of bazooms, drill bits and fire-in-the-holes. He's getting married to me! I charge you to do the honours."

"Oh, yes," Chakotay crowed. "Come and get me! Say, is it a boy? Is it a girl?"

"Yes to both questions. Now shut up and kiss me before I shoot your peepee off."

To which Chakotay, lately relieved to be relieved of the Borg Burden sans Bazooms, happily complied.

"Say," he crowed, "your itty-bitty butterballs have grown!" There was wonder in his eyes. Janeway just shook her head.

"Of course they're bigger. But you're getting none of it this time!"

Meanwhile Uhura turned on Noah Lessing, pointing her phaser at his _uboo_.

"I should relieve you of your _makende_ and _uboo_ just for aiding and abetting Captain Chakotay, you rat!"

"Adessi, please do not emasculate me. I have much to give to you. My love, my _makende_ and my _uboo_!"

"I'll take them all! The admiral and I wouldn't like to damage our investments, would we now?"

To which Noah went on his knees and begged Uhura to preserve his future generations.

"Okay, so long as you know you can run, but never hide from me!"

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank - "

"Enough! Kiss me, you old fart in the wind!"

And Noah Lessing complied. He did not want to look down the barrel of Mau-Mau again.

Captain Chakotay and his Kath-hon were joined in holy matrimony by the same Vulcan priest. When he came to "If you have any objections, blah, blah, blah," Kathryn simply set Betsy Calhoun on wide stun and pointed it to the congregation. They looked too scared to move, let alone object when they saw Betsy turned on them.

"I guess we are all in agreement, Mr Vulcan," she said, pointing Betsy at his crotch. "Continue, or forever hold your peace, or you shall rest in pieces."

When the ceremony was over, Kathryn took her man, and Uhura took her man, and they all walked to where the new and improved Delta Flyer III waited with its state of the art twin cabins. Kathryn and Chakotay returned home to Indiana; Uhura took her man to Kenya after boarding another shuttle in San Francisco.

That night Chakotay lay in the great bed where he was joined by Kathryn and her trusty compression phaser rifle called Betsy Calhoun.

END

makende - balls/genitals [Swahili]

uboo - penis [Swahili]

shenzi - bastard/ low-life/utter cad! [Swahili]

fille publique - prostitute [Fr.]


End file.
